Page 21 of Caught in the Middle

“Just Emma.” She wondered what it’d be like to have been given a nickname by her parents. “What are your parents like?”

Cam looked up at the waves rolling in, the people swimming in the ocean, towels spread out along the beach. It was peaceful here, even though it was the busy season of summer.

“They’re your typical loving mom and dad, I suppose,” he said, not noticing her wince. “They took my sister and I on vacations, played board games with us, spent Saturdays at the park where we’d grill and ride our bikes.” He smiled at the memories. “They worked hard like everyone else, but they always managed to make it to our games and have time for us.”

“That’s wonderful,” Emma said, trying to maintain a neutral voice. She brought this on herself, she chided. “They sound amazing.”

Cam stopped and turned toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to keep walking, but he gently placed his hand on her arm.

“Tell me.” It sounded more like a worried plea than a demand.

Emma felt a pang of annoyance at herself. “Really, it’s nothing.” She waved her hand to have him keep walking with her as she continued. “I’ve always been curious,” she started. “About what it was like for other kids growing up, what other families did, and I’m sure that was just the start of my interest in different lifestyles, cultures, cities, and everything else.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she thought about how that small curiosity had snowballed into a drive that led her to want to see and experience the world.

Cam began to understand. “What was your experience like?”

He didn’t push her on it, and she appreciated the space he gave her to find the words. “I don’t like to dwell on the negative parts of life,” Emma admitted. “I’ve learned it doesn’t do any good, but I also can’t deny that some emotions and pain can linger longer than others.”

Emma paused as another couple walking in the opposite direction approached and waited until they’d passed to keep going. She wasn’t the most private person on the planet, but there were some parts of her she didn’t care to share with just anyone. Which made her surprised she was okay with sharing this with Cam. A small part of her wanted to, though she didn’t know why.

“My Aunt Mel raised me as far as I’m concerned. I moved in with her when I was seven, but I guess I didn’t really have a choice. As an adult, I realized I hadn’t even really known her when I was a kid. But she was my only option.”

A tug in Cam’s chest made him want to hug this woman while an invisible shoe was kicking him in the gut. He oftentimes forgot how lucky he was to have the life he easily took for granted. He may not have gotten all the toys he wanted for Christmas every year or the cool car when he turned sixteen, but he had a mom and dad who did their best to love and care for him. Who continued to show up for each other and their kids no matter the stress, the fights, or the long days when life proved to be tougher at times. He was lucky, privileged even, and it was moments like these that he remembered not everyone had that.

He should know better by now, especially since he had so many people in his life who didn’t have as happy of homes growing up, who had lost a parent as a child, whose parents had split, or didn’t offer them love and support.

He let Emma keep going at her own pace, not wanting to interrupt her or take away from her story.

“I don’t have the best memories of my parents when I was a child. Some things stand out more than others, and for a lot of it, I wonder if they were really memories or nightmares that engrained themselves into my mind. But I remember a lot of fighting and screaming. Like I said, I’m not sure which are memories or a combination of my imagination and what I’d overheard or learned since, but my mom used to get so mad she’d start hitting my dad and throwing things. Cops were called several times.”

Emma remembered asking her aunt about it, who had been her mom’s sister. They’d grown up in an abusive house, and Aunt Mel said that it was probably all her mom had known as far as how to handle anger and her emotions. Emma knew that didn’t excuse her mom’s behavior, yet knowing that about her had made Emma feel like she at least understood and knew her mom better.

“My dad wasn’t physically abusive but I think he was verbally aggressive. We were secluded from everyone,” she said. “My dad didn’t have any family around and my mom had left home years before she met him, having cut ties with my aunt. My grandparents were both dead by the time I was four and I don’t even know if my dad’s parents were alive. Aunt Mel didn’t know much about him.”

Cam listened, having stopped beside Emma as she’d begun gazing out over the horizon, their feet in the water. He waited as he sensed the worst was yet to come.

“I don’t know what all they were struggling with, whether it was financial, loneliness, mental health-related or what, but they turned to drugs and alcohol.” Emma looked down, watching the water lap over her feet and up her ankles. “You can guess how that road took them down a worse path.” She let out a breath. “Until one day I was called into the office at school, police officers waiting inside, and that’s how I learned that my mom had taken her own life.”

She didn’t look up at him, not yet. Because if she saw that pity she was so accustomed to, then she knew she wouldn’t finish with the rest. Instead, she went on.

“They never did know what took my dad home on lunch that day, but I guess the neighbor overheard his wails, and when the police and paramedics showed up,” her voice quieted. “My aunt thinks he had to of loved her tremendously because he lost it. When they tried removing him from her, it was like he cracked and exploded and took all his pain out on those around him. My dad had never laid a hand on me or my mom, but that day he went swinging on everyone in sight.”

Cam shuddered at what Emma must have experienced, what it’d been like for her.

“They took him into custody and found a way to get ahold of my aunt. She came without any questions and never once made me feel like I was putting her out.”

“What about your dad?” Cam asked softly.

“I think the part of him that shattered that day never fully recovered. I don’t know his reasons, if it was because I was a reminder of the life he’d had, if I looked too much like my mom, or what it was, but he never came for me.” She clenched her teeth until the moisture threatening at her eyes died back. “Nine months later, he overdosed.”

Shit. Holy shit, Cam thought.

Emma filled her lungs with air as she slowly raised her head, her eyes meeting his. She held her breath, waiting. And waiting. But it never came. The pity never came.

Instead, Cam reached out, his palm finding her cheek. It felt comforting and yet prideful. “To walk this world with so much brightness and joy radiating from you is a testament to your strength.”

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